She laughs quietly, the sound making all the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to compliment me or not, Branson,” she says, grinning.
“I’m not.”
“Right. You’re just casually telling me how amazing I am,” she replies. I swear she’s one cocky motherfucker. “It wasn’t just Anderson’s lecture. I’mstilltrying to catch up on sleep after what we saw.”
“And what exactly was it that we saw? Because I only saw two people talking before you hit the alarm and blew our cover. You should be grateful we left there in one piece. Who knows what weapons they had on them,” I say, shuddering at the thought of them harming us in any way. Honestly, it was one of the most terrifying moments of my life.
She laughs again, sounding a lot like it did that night, wheezy and chesty. “You’re so fucking dramatic. They weren’t going to hurt us,” she concedes through her laugh. I shake my head at her, not sure why she finds the possibility of death so amusing.
“Did you at least tell your uncle what we saw?” I ask, needing her to give me some sort of information. Anything that can tie this up.
“I can’t exactly follow it up with my uncle because he doesn’t know that we went,” she mumbles. The words are hard to make out as she strains her eyes on the sheet in front of her, avoiding my eyes.
“Are you being serious? We went there without anyone knowing where we were. What if something happened to us, Scarlett? Does that thought not terrify you a little bit?” I quiz, completely baffled as to how she would let us go out there in the night, alone, with no one knowing our whereabouts. When she told me about the lead, it seemed like her uncle had urged her to go out and see what was going on, not this.
“Can you chill?” she asks, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh.I swear, this woman.Then, she adds easily, “If it’s any consolation, there’s a tracker on my phone and on the car. If we were to get mauled, someone would have found us.”
“No, that’s not any consolation, you animal.”
Now it’s her turn to shake her head, desperately trying not to laugh at me. “Listen, there would be nothing to report anyway. I tried looking through some employee photos and I couldn’t find him. It’s a dead end.”
The words sound like a punch to the stomach. I can’t let this end before it's even started. The store, the diamonds, Mateo’s signing of the documents and her uncle's lack of knowledge of this; there has to be something we’re missing.
“Maybe you’re not looking in the right place,” I suggest with a shrug.
“Do you know something I don’t, Branson? Because where else is there to look? All the records of the diamond exchange are official. Like I said, I don’t know who the guy is, and I can’t exactly go up and ask him,” she explains with a huff.
“Then let me help you.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Scarlett’s eyes widen for a second, clearly taken aback by my suggestion. What am I doing? I was going to need to ask her at some point. It’s already enough to be working with her on this project, the last thing she wants to do is spend more time with me than necessary.
“Why?” she asks finally.
“What?”
“We barely like each other. Why do you want to help me?”
I tut, shaking my head. “No, Angel.Youdon’t likeme,” I correct for her, reminding her that it’s not me that wants this. She raises an eyebrow. “Listen, I think we could be a pretty good team if we weren't fighting all the time. I've got nothing better to do and it doesn't seem like you have many options to help you either. I'm not going to let you risk your life for nothing. Not to mention, I’d be the first suspect in the investigation since we're doing this project together. I don’t want my reputation to be tarnished because you’d be dumb enough to get killed.”
She scoffs. “If anything, you’d be the one dying first. I have Final Girl energy,” she says defensively.
“You think so?” I ask cooly. She nods, holding up her chin proudly. “I’d peg you more as the first girl, but sure.”
“What have I ever done that makes you think I’m not Final Girl worthy?”
“For starters, you wear red bottoms for no other reason than they look good,” I say, but her face doesn’t crack. “You’d be out before the opening credits roll.”
“Is that how little you think of me? That I’m just a pretty face, too dumb and easy to kill.”
“You having a pretty face has nothing to do with what I think about you,” I say, shaking my head at how this conversation has completely flipped.
She smirks. “So, you admit it? You think I have a pretty face.”
“Scarlett,” I press, ignoring her obvious comment. “Are you going to let me help you or do you want to keep running your mouth some more?”
She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath in and then back out. “Don’t make me regret this, Branson.”
